Poem by Sara Teasdale

The Kiss

I HOPED that he would love me,
    And he has kissed my mouth, 
But I am like a stricken bird
    That cannot reach the south.

For though I know he loves me,
    To-night my heart is sad; 
His kiss was not so wonderful
    As all the dreams I had.

1. Swans
2. The Ghost
3. The River
4. November
5. The Song for Colin

Edith Nesbit The Kiss ("The snow is white on wood and wold")

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